Drabbles in a Death Note way
by Commoner
Summary: Because no one can really be satisfied with so little Death Note in this world. [Drabbles collection]
1. L, Still a boy

**A/N:**This is going to be a bunch of drabbles that I'll try to update when schoolwork isn't totally screwing my vibes.

I'll take whichever character and twist him, her, or them, in my own evil and demented way. So, if you have requests, all you have to do is review baby!

It starts with L, because come on, he's weird, and likes sweets, and never gets toothaches for which he is my total HERO.

**Disclaimer:** I completely, totally and superbly do NOT own Death Note. (Ha ha, you can't sue me!)

**Still a boy**

Usually when a baby is born, it's normal that it'll opens his or her eyes (even if at that age it can't really see anything but blurry figures) and then proceed to cry loudly as air enters for the first time the baby's lungs…

When _the boy_ was born, he fully opened his impossibly dark and huge eyes for the first time, looked uninterestedly at every figure in the room, and then he gained a half-bored, half-amused gaze that would later become almost as infamous as his own name.

This of course went mainly unnoticed by the doctor and the nurses, and later when the parents became worried about their apparently unresponsive baby, the specialists explained that it was common occurrence for a new born to react in sluggish and slow way.

When _the boy_ started to walk, he did so with confidence and without stumbling, a feat nearly impossible for such a young infant; and when he started to talk he did so with short and precise sentences, instead of the usual babbling of small children.

Most disturbing of all, was the manner in which _the boy_ at the tender age of three started to express himself: he would look directly into your eyes, a typical symbol of complete honesty that he'd probably learned to utilize by observing people, and without blinking, without his voice or facial expression changing at all, spoke with confidence and without hesitation.

His parents soon started to understand that nothing they ever did would manage to change their peculiar son, and after all the therapy failed and all the doctors decided that there was nothing wrong with his brain, they instead left him to his own devices, preferring to go out to mingle with their rich friends (who were never invited to come over, because of the fear that they might see _the boy_), and leaving their son in the care of highly paid and of course incompetent nurses.

When _the boy_ turned five, his parents gave him brightly colored plastic blocks to distract him and keep him occupied; the blocks were soon used to create impossibly beautiful and complicated buildings that were meticulously built and then carelessly discarded whenever he felt particularly moody.

_The boy_ adopted a hunched posture at seven, which only made him look more fragile and weak than he already was, and would later also gain a peculiar position when sitting -feet up on a chair, clutching his knees, hunched back and owlish eyes alert.

It would later be known that he had devised this exact posture himslef after he discovered that it helped improve his analytical skills (by a twenty percent, he would later claim).

It also turned out that _the boy_ was supremely picky with his food, and developed a penchant for sweets; his parents neither noticed nor cared, and at eight he became so malnourished that the nurses grew scared (because the first thing parents blame, is the personal) and started to dress him in baggy clothing to hide all the mess of pale skin and bones he had become.

But most important of all was that this _boy_, this incredibly smart, thin boy with hunched shoulders and mussed raven black hair and dark, hooded eyes, had his first epiphany at the age of nine, when he found a book entitled "Law and Justice" while in his father's private library.

_The boy_ was going to be a detective.

Even if he had to disentangle himself from the mess that family ties and society's expectations were, and take destiny in his own hands, he would do it, just for the sake of morals and justice.

The fact that his parents died in a car crash months later was the final sign from God that this was the path he was meant for.


	2. Near and Halle Linder, Baldy

**A/N:** Written in five minutes. Crack, sarcasm and a bishounen, because I can get away with it.

**Disclaimer:** No matter how many times I say it, it still hurts. I don't own Death Note.

* * *

**Baldy**

Normal people tend to have the peculiar belief that just because a person is a genius or a prodigy (which is the same actually), that person will have no fears, and a lot of ambitions.

Which is why -usually because normal people also tend to barely have a two digit IQ- sometimes _someone_ comes along to prove that the idea is completely wrong.

Nate Rivers -or Near, as the paranoiac boy insists- is twelve years old, starting hit puberty, and he is also the youngest –and cleverest- detective currently in the world…and the little pest knows it.

He is a genius alright.

Never mind that to him, catching Kira is his job, and he does it happily and without complaint (how could he complain? The brat is bossing around grown ups and saving the world while playing with kindergarten toys, when he should tptally be stuck to a Nintendo or at least reading a porno at his age).

But aside from speculations about wanting to get a curly perm (deduced from the incessant twirling of his pastel white strands), not one of his coworkers has ever really known Near to have ambitions.

_But _his fears are meticulously deduced within the sharp mind of a fellow observer, and she keeps them brightly present in her subconscious whenever the kid's acting like a total _bitch_.

Halle Lidner knows the time will come when the useful information comes handy, and she hopes she'll live long enough to see the brat's face when she shaves off all of his pretty, pretty hair.

Let's see how he acts all arrogant and stuck up then.

Because genius is the last thing on a normal person's mind, when a baldy's crossing the street.

* * *

Try to imagine a bald Near, it's not cute…it's…

Ew.


	3. L and Raito, Boyish charm

_**A/N: **_Ah…Misa Misa. Because one has to feel bad for the girl. DN is the only manga besides Naruto where you can decidedly feel the sexual tension between the lead males.

It's a sad day indeed when you realize all the hot guys are taken…by other hot guys.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own L, nor Raito, nor Misa. One day I will, but until then I continue to write this less the feds find me and lock me away.

* * *

_**Boyish charm**_

Being female decidedly sucked. Especially if you're within a 10-feet radius of a HOT SMEXY LOVE-GOD who coudn't care less about you prancing around in a micro skirt and a corset, _for Christ sakes_!

It wasn't until she sat bored, angry and more than a little hurt after being ignored yet again by L and Raito, that she started to contemplate and wonder about the time when she first started to curse her anatomy and wish to be a guy just so she could partake in their male activities...not that those two ever did anything than sit, read and analyse data.

Not very macho, indeed.

Misa had never complained about being female before, not when it had managed to secure her a job almost immediately at a modeling agency at fourteen, and certainly not when she discovered that she could get the complete attention of all the males in the vicinity just by tugging her skirt a tad higher.

That is, all the males_ but_ the ones she was currently living with.

Not that she would actually like to be on the receiver's end of Ryuuzaki's raccoon eyed stare any longer than necessary. The man was weird, also possibly inhuman judging by all the amounts of sweets he inhaled every day, and was infuriatingly skinnier than Misa.

She most certainly did not like _him_.

"I _really_ think we should give it a rest."

"But we've just barely started to skim the latest research data from this week, Raito-kun"

"We've been doing this for 60 _hours_"

"If you continue being uncooperative it'll raise my suspicion up to 9 percent."

"…"

It was during this particular afternoon that Misa would get the bright idea of doing the only thing that would reassure about her Raito being definitively _not_, gay. Which was eavesdropping on their totally boring and mundane conversations.

"Raito-kun? Are you looking for something in my trouser pockets? Oh. _OH_…"

And it was on this particular afternoon that God decided to grant the poor girl with the dastardly truth.

"Come, Ryuuzaki"

"Why, I'd though you'd _never_ ask…"

Matsuda never did understand the reason of finding Misa Misa furiously researching everything she could about gender swap a week later.


End file.
